


As the Falcon Flies

by surrealer



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Banter, Demigod characters, Don't worry, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, M/M, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Tags will be updated as we go on, asshole godly parents abound!, asshole parents in general abound, equal parts poetic waxing and chaotic clownery, loosely (very loosely) based on Percy Jackson, no beta we die like robins, there are some very nice ones as well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28113138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrealer/pseuds/surrealer
Summary: Stories of demigods have circulated around the Continent since the time of the Elves: tales of children begat from the union of a Deity and a mortal. And like those fables of unicorns and mermaids, they are widely dismissed; Taken as fairytales of men and women of extraordinary lineage and unimaginable powers. Geralt of Rivia thought the same for decades... But he of all people should know that just because something is myth, it doesn't mean it isn't real.orIn which Geralt of Rivia meets an annoying bard and a half-blood with a martyr complex, and his life is forever changed.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s), OC/OC, OFC/OFC (previously)
Kudos: 3





	As the Falcon Flies

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, one and all, to my brand new story! As indicated in the tags, this is very loosely  
> and I mean _loosely_ based off of Percy Jackson, but many elements are quite majorly changed. I've been thinking about this since December 2019 and slowly working on it through quarantine. I suppose something good came out of being cooped up for months on end xD. I hope you enjoy, and leave a kudos or comment if you do!

Fidela and Sartoria sit on the beach, watching the waves lap at the sand, soft and lazy. The sky is a depressed grey, clouds preventing the Sun from dancing across the Continent, spreading light and joy. Even were they not sorceresses, it would not be difficult to see that a horrific tragedy had occurred. Something so terrible that Nature withered and wailed because of it. 

"Fidela!" Tallis calls out, copper curls fanned by the winds. He pants as he comes to a stop, bending over at the waist as he leans on his knees. "Sartoria. _Huff_. You'll never believe it." 

"Do try to surprise me, Tallis." Sartoria comments, propped up on her elbows as she looks up at him with unimpressed hazel eyes. Her hair was the same color as his, but the two were so very different that it was impossible to mistake them as siblings. 

Fidela pushes back her own locks — an uninteresting brown compared to that of her companions, and nods at the mage. "Tallis, please. Go on."

"Do you remember that half-blood? Alessandra of Troyden?" 

"Troyden..." Fidela ponders, remembering with a bit of difficulty that Troyden was up north, past Redania. "Ah, yes. The prophecy child?" 

Tallis snorts. "An enormous understatement... But yes, her. Seems those rumors that she's been seen with the Witcher, Geralt of Rivia are true."

Sartoria gasps, sitting up straight. "The Butcher of Blaviken?!" She shrieks, touching her hand to her chest. "What business would she have with him?" 

"None, anymore." Fidela and Sartoria share a quizzical look. 

"What do you mean?" 

"The Witcher is dead. Along with that blasted shrew, Yennefer. And just as they fell, the perfect little warrior princess goes missing. Divine the rest, sisters." 

Forget nature's agony. Now, that was some grade-A gossip.

* * *

The three sit in a triangle on the wooden floor of their sitting room, curtains drawn and candles lit. A simple spell, really, to look back on the past and watch as it plays out. 

"Ready?" Sartoria asks, and Fidela nods, Tallis answering by grasping both of the women's hands. 

Soft utterances of Elder tongue fill the room, wisps of magic emerging from the mages. Blue light twists around them and intertwines between them in a marvelous ball of glowing power befor dispelling into a cloud of dust, drifting down onto the mirror. 

Fidela's perfect eyebrows furrow when nothing happens, and she's about to question Tallis when suddenly the surface of the mirror shimmers and a beautiful blonde girl kneels in a darkened chapel. A temple, to be sure, but the only thing she could see was the altar the girl's folded hands rested on.

_"Still?" Someone asks from the shadows, startling the mages but the girl doesn't react at all._

_"This is a temple, Ailin. You're not allowed to judge here." She says, calmly, eyes still closed in prayer._

_"Lyssa, for Ares' sake!" Ailin says, stepping into the light. He's tall and stockily built, black hair neatly combed back. "You can't keep praying to Zeus. He is obviously uninterested."_

_She still says nothing. For a few moments, Ailin waits, before yelling in frustration. "Lyssa, we need you now. You're our commander,_ command _!"_

_That rouses her attention. The girl opens her eyes, steely cobalt eyes that send shivers down Fidela's spine. "You're right, Ailin. I'm the commander." She rises to her feet, clad in what seems to be a combination of armor- a leather cuirass, a bronze shoulder pauldron, greaves on her boots - and normal breeches and a white shirt, with puffy sleeves that tuck under her metal wrist gauntlets. "Which means I decide when we move."_

_As she steps down from the altar to stand in front of Ailin, it becomes obvious how tall the demigoddess is._

"Why is it this moment?" Tallis whispers. "We were looking towards the Witcher, weren't we?"

"Something's wrong." Sartoria whispers, extending a trembling hand towards the mirror.

_"Chiron and Lord D agree with me. That's all you need to know." Lyssa says from inside the mirror. "You can convey that to the rest of Cabin Ares as well."_

Sartoria taps and the reflection ripples before going dark. That's when Fidela finally notices that it wasn't just the girl who was making her shiver; The room has grown icy cold, frost building on the furniture.

"Who's there?!" Fidela calls out, jumping to her feet. "I can feel your spirit here, monster. Who are you?!"

 _Monster?_ Someone... Something rumbles. _Oh no, dear. I am no monster._

Fidela and her fellow coven huddle together, backs at each other as they search for where the voice came from. 

_And this? Was not your business. But you are welcome to assist me._


End file.
